


the heart is divided (in the best kind of way)

by TheHighestMountain



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon Compliant, Friendship, Gen, Love, Platonic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-01 16:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14524656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHighestMountain/pseuds/TheHighestMountain
Summary: Katara and Sokka are born with matching platonic soulmarks. It isn't until they pull a boy from the ice, a boy with Air Nomad tattoos and a familiar, bright purple mark over his left breast, that they think maybe this isn't all they are.Maybe, just maybe, their hearts are made of five pieces.A (canon compliant) soulmark fic in which Aang, Katara, Sokka, Toph, and Zuko are all soulmates.





	1. Katara & Sokka

Sokka came into this world kicking and screaming. His tiny left fist was scrunched up in displeasure, decorated with a deep purple soulmark, the details too fine to make out. It was only when he grew older, when he was tall enough to totter around clutching at chair legs and his father’s boomerang, that the mark became clear: simplified versions of the symbols of the four elements laid out like the corners of the square, pierced through vertically with an image of a spear. It was a curious mark for a child with no apparent ability to bend.

The colour made sense the moment Katara was born. Soulmarks bind person to person; their lives, should the people ever meet, are predicted by the fates to entwine. People are marked as partners by matching symbols, their marks denoting them as pieces of the same puzzle, able to fit together. The vast majority of marks are shared by two people and are a deep crimson red: the colour of fresh blood, the colour of the heart and the sign of romantic love.

There are, of course, times when three people are bound together with a romantic bond. Rarely is it more than three, though it is of course hard to tell when one might never meet their other soulmates. This might be due to geography or that it never really occurs to people that their heart might have room for more than two.

But not all marks are red and not all love is romantic. A few marks are a rich, royal blue: the colour of the mind and a sign of intellectual partners, those whose thoughts run in tandem and whose collaboration might advance society. These marks are prized and are seen as a symbol of sacrifice: those who have, without choice, missed out on the chance for fated romance in order to contribute to the growing body of human knowledge.

Katara and Sokka are both painted in royal purple. Some of the villagers clucked over Katara. They pointed at the mark on the back of her neck, just below the hairline, and made whispered comments when they thought her mother could not hear. “Poor child,” they said, “soulmarked to her own brother.” The more pitying added “not even a mind mark, but a friendship one!” Friends can be found anywhere, they muttered. Why would one need a mark to find a friend? Even worse, why would one need a mark to know one’s own brother! What a waste of a chance to find an excellent husband or an opportunity to change the world.

Of course, Katara and Sokka would change the world.

Sokka heard their whispers but he loved his younger sister nonetheless, perhaps even more so because of their words. When he was old enough to understand what it meant, he pressed the back of his left hand to Katara’s neck, aligning the marks. He half expected something magical to happen, for some rush of overpowering belief that he and his sister will be close forever to overwhelm him. Instead Katara kicked at his legs until he put her down.

Purple soulmarks are the rarest of them all, halfway between red and blue, representing a mix of the heart and the mind to create a colour that means a deep, lifelong and almost spiritual friendship. Sokka held his sister and thought how special that was. To find someone who completed you, heart and mind and soul.

Like all siblings, as Katara and Sokka grew older they drew further apart. They became closer to different aspects of their shared soulmark. Those that are soul bonded share exactly the same mark and it is commonly accepted that the design means something specific to the people that share it. Some have obvious meanings: a book might mean that you share a love of learning, or a plant the love of the outdoors. A bird might indicate flightiness, the urge to travel and to fulfil wanderlust. Sokka and Katara, apparently, were supposed to love war.

Sokka spent his youth with his father and the other men of the village, learning to master the weapons of a hunter and a fighter. It was obvious that he was the spear, the common man of the Water Tribes who fought to protect and serve his people, whilst Katara was the elements. Katara spent her days apart from her brother and the others of her tribe; the sole waterbender among her people, Katara would sit by the waters for days at a time, trying to learn the secrets of her skill.

She never would have admitted it to her brother, who loved her fiercely and who she adored in return – despite his frustrating qualities and annoying proclivity to speak in terrible puns – but Katara grieved for the romantic soulmate she would never have. The other girls in the tribe chatted happily about their soulmarks; some swapped giggling stories about the boys they were already bonded to, some chatted excitedly about their planned voyages to the mainland and the Northern Water Tribe to find their partners.

Katara sat apart, unable to join in with their wild speculations about what their marks meant. She already knew and there was no gentle loving man out there waiting for her, looking fondly at his mark and then up at the night stars wondering if she too was doing the same.

There was just Katara and Sokka and Gran Gran, and that would have to be enough.

 

* * *

 

They say that the location of the soulmark says something about a person. A mark on the hand might mean great scholarly skill or a talent for weaponry, and Sokka proudly interpreted his as a sign that he should follow in his father’s footsteps. Katara, much to his annoyance, suggested that it might have something to do with his tendency to do something else with his hand. She often accompanied this with a rude hand gesture, always out of sight of Gran Gran.

In retaliation, Sokka argued that her mark had rather less to do with any potential intelligence or cunning, and more to do with the fact that her head was huge. This was, of course, a complete bald-faced lie, but it never failed to turn Katara’s face red and to cause her to storm off.

But neither of them had ever seen a heart mark. At least not until they pulled a small, shivering boy out of the water with Air Nomad tattoos and a familiar, bright purple mark over his left breast.

“Holy shit,” Sokka swore. “Holy shit.”

Katara didn’t even bother to reprimand him. She just stared at the mark, her mark, the mark that belonged to her and her brother alone. Except, apparently it didn’t. Because now there was this boy she’d never met who was barely dressed and glowed with the marks of a people who were years in the grave and the mark of a destined lifelong friendship on his skin.

Her legs gave out and Katara sat down, hard. Sokka had drawn his spear and pointed it vaguely in the boy’s direction.

“What the hell is going on? How’d you get in the ice? What the hell is that thing?” He motioned the spear in the direction of a massive mound of fur, which appeared to be breathing shallowly. The boy looked dazed.

“I’m not sure. But that’s Appa, my flying bison.”

“Sure, and this is Katara, my flying sister.”

“Are you an airbender?” Katara cut across Sokka’s sarcastic retort, her tone disbelieving.

Of course, neither of these statements were what the two siblings really _wanted_ to say. What they wanted to say was more along the lines of “what in the Avatar’s name is that on your chest” and “how can there be three of us”. Both their brains seemed to be humming with the same thought over and over: _mine, ours, soulmate; mine, ours, soulmate_.

“Well,” the boy rubs at his bald head. “I’m Aang. I’m kind of the Avatar.”

“The Avatar has been dead for over-“ Katara began to exclaim before Sokka interrupted her. His voice managed to reach new and impressive levels of volume and pitch.

“WE SHARE A SOULMARK WITH THE MOTHER FRICKIN’ AVATAR?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are very few tropes I love more than a good soulmate fic, and as much as I love a great romance, I thought that Avatar is about friendship. So here's a chaptered fic about friendship, destiny, and discovering ourselves.
> 
> This chapter is quite short but the next will be longer. I was going to post it as one fic, but (a) it was taking too long to write and I wanted to share this, and (b) I thought it would be cool if everyone got their own chapters.
> 
> Many thanks for any kudos, comments, or bookmarks x


	2. Aang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang joins the gang and two becomes three.

Contrary to popular belief, the Avatar has always had a soulmate – a different one for each lifetime. As they cycle through the four nations – air to water to earth to fire - so too does the Avatar cycle through the marks, going from red to purple to blue. It is another way by which the monks can be certain of the identity of the new reincarnation. But this information is not readily made available to the public and so many are under the impression that the Avatar has no mark. 

When the monks informed Aang that he was the new Avatar of their age, a small part of him was entirely unsurprised. He loved airbending. He loved the skies and the freedom they offered; most of his days were spent swooping on his glider, performing air acrobatics and testing his limits. A heart mark like his has an obvious interpretation: a deep, unyielding love and Aang loved bending and the evidence was painted across his chest for anyone to see, in the form of the four elements with a spear piercing through the middle.

Aang had supposed that given the spear represented the need for the Avatar – for _him –_ to go to war with the increasingly violent Fire Nation in order to uphold the balance of the people and the elements. He supposed that the beliefs of the people had come true, that here, _finally_ , was an Avatar whose heart was fulfilled not by another but by the cause of the people. But as he gazed into the bright blue eyes of a young man who levelled his spear in Aang’s direction over a hundred years later, he thought that he had been wrong.

Aang had never been so glad.

“That’s my mark,” he said, dumbfounded, eyes fixed on Sokka’s left hand. Finding out that you’re the Avatar, being frozen in ice, and then discovering your soulmate ( _a man_ , no less!) would steal all sensible comments from anyone’s tongue.

“Oh no no.” Sokka gesticulated with his spear between himself and Katara. “That’s our mark. Our lifelong sibling bond and symbol that we are going to annoy each other into an early grave. It’s,” he waved the spear dramatically. “Not.” His eyes got wider with every word. “Yours.”

Aang got to his feet. “Well, I guess that’s kinda weird.” It was weird in the sense that it was rare, but Aang didn’t really understand why this strange Water Tribe boy was being so odd about it. Aang would make a great soulmate! “Three people. But not any weirder than finding out you’re the Avatar and getting two soulmates in a couple of days.” He chuckled and then coughed up water onto the ice.

“You’re dead.” Katara’s voice was uncharacteristically flat. Aang figured that she’d be the sensible one (and the pretty one) of this peculiar little trio, if she wasn’t making such bizarre statements. “You’re a hundred years dead. There’s no Air Nomads left.”

“This is insane.” Sokka voiced the thought that the three of them all seemed to be thinking. Though Aang was doing less thinking and more hacking up his water filled lungs whilst relishing in the wonderful feeling of _not being dead_. 

They ended up taking Aang, who seemed even more shell-shocked once Katara’s revelations actually sunk in, back to the village. What else could they do with a suddenly unfrozen and not-dead Avatar? Gran Gran fussed over him, making sure that he was warm and feeding him snacks as Katara and Sokka stood around awkwardly, wondering when their lives had been turned upside down.

Later that evening, after they had tentatively shared a few pertinent details with Aang about the war with the Fire Nation and the tragic fate of the airbenders, Aang was sleeping fitfully tucked up in Appa’s fur whilst the two siblings sat around a fire silently. This was their ritual when times grew tough. When their father went away to war. When they received the few sparse letters from him. When they felt alone and isolated, they sat like this around a roaring fire, Sokka’s hand around Katara’s shoulders so that their marks were touching, taking comfort in each other and their bond.  

The bond that had apparently expanded to include the small boy asleep in the gentle clutches of a not-so-extinct sky bison. Sokka wasn’t quite sure how they’d all manage to touch marks at the same time. _Maybe Aang will have to lie down, Katara use his chest as a pillow, and I’ll stick my hand into the whole awkward mess._

“What are we becoming?” Sokka asked softly. “It was always you and me, Katara. You and me against the world.”

“And now it isn’t.” She said simply. The words hung in the air between them, an acknowledgement of their fate. “Now it’s you and me and,” she laughed softly, “the Avatar.” 

“The mother frickin’ Avatar,” Sokka agreed softly. They stared into the fire some more, thoughts churning in their frantic minds.

“Katara,” Sokka spoke hesitantly, unsure whether his words would be a comfort. “Bonds work differently between different people. I know I wasn’t what you wanted,” he backtracked as he saw her wince. “I mean, I know you’ve always wanted a romantic bond. You don’t have to deny it.” She rested her head on his shoulder as he stared at the fire. “Perhaps he could be that for you.”

“Perhaps.” Katara thought about all the times she had felt different from the other young women of the Water Tribe. She thought about how she felt when she saw the pictures of her parents, holding hands and beaming out of the sketches, how she’d held those very paintings and prayed to the gods that she might find a love like that.

Katara thought about how _very unfair_ this all was. Recently, she’d been making her peace with it, accepting what she had, treasuring the moments like this where she sat with her endearing, annoying, beloved brother and it felt like all was right with the universe. And now bursts in this boy, this _really cute boy_ , with her mark painted over his chest, over his _heart_.

“He is kinda dishy.” They both laughed because whilst Aang is adorable, what twelve year old is dishy? They fell asleep like that, cuddled up before the fire. When morning broke it was to the sounds of alarm: “FIRE NATION SHIPS SIGHTED!”

Katara and Sokka stood up, bleary-eyed, only to be crashed into by Aang. As they righted themselves, a man in full Water Tribe battle regalia rushed over to them

“Sokka, Fire Nation ships are approaching. Put on your armour, son, we need every able bodied fighter.”

“Yes, sir.” He snapped off a quick salute and turned to Aang. He knew what he was about to ask was ridiculous, but he also felt certain that Aang would say yes. “I know we’ve only just met but you’re our soulmate and this is our home. The Fire Nation will destroy us without the help of the Avatar. Will you fight with us?”

Aang nodded solemnly. “Yes, I will fight with you, Sokka and Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.” He grinned to himself, a little giddily as he added, “my soulmates!”

And that, Sokka supposed, was that. Soulmates with the mother frickin’ Avatar indeed. 

As Aang readied Appa and ran through some airbending moves, Katara used her limited waterbending skills to assist with reinforcing defences, and Sokka strapped on his war armour. Breastplate, fingerless gloves, wraps wound up his arms, reinforced boots and, lastly, face paint applied with prayers upon his lips.

Little did Sokka know, but another young man did the same on a warship, helped into his armour by servants whilst prayers for his father’s forgiveness and the restoration of his honour spilled from his lips.

Two young men, too young, prepared to fight for their futures.

Sokka left the tent armed to the teeth. The village had grown purposefully quiet, the children and those unable to fight cloistered away in relative safety and the fighters manned the icy battlements. Sokka made his way to the wall with the least men and assumed a lookout position. _I can do this; I have two people to fight for now._

A deep rumbling sound and the violent shaking of the ground interrupted his thoughts. He let loose a cry of dismay as a guard tower collapsed and a massive shadow erupted from the mist, dwarfing the village. The heavily armoured Fire Nation ship had carved a swathe through the ice from the coast to the city wall.

“SOKKA, MOVE!” Katara screamed from behind him.

Sokka, who had been frozen in place in fear, launched himself backwards as the prow of the ship turned the wall into slivers of ice. Katara ran to him, heaved him backwards as the ship made a grinding sound and a gangplank extended onto the ice. Sokka had, by some miracle, managed to keep hold of his spear and he now pointed it with trembling fingers at the soldiers who descended the plank.

His attention was instinctively drawn to the man, the boy really, at their centre. Katara also fixed her eyes on Zuko, both of them watched him with an intensity that wasn’t entirely to do with how he was presently invading their village. Even Aang, who was still trying to ready Appa who didn’t want anything to do with this fight, paused his fumbling with Appa’s saddle

Later, months later, they thought that they ought to have known then. They locked eyes with an angry wild boy with a scar on his face and a weapon in his fist and they ought to have known that their hearts were cut in more ways than they had imagined. Divided in the best kind of way.

Sokka charged, spear levelled at Zuko’s heart, an adolescent war cry torn from his throat. Zuko lazily stepped aside and kicked the weapon from Sokka’s hands. He was about to draw back for another attack when Aang thundered around the corner on Appa, who was missing a few chunks of fur from where the pair had been defending the village against a smaller ship’s worth of soldiers. He blasted air from his fists, knocking back soldiers left and right. He dismounted from Appa smoothly and floated over to stand before Zuko, back straight.

“Looking for me?” He felt more confident than he should have done with his newfound soulmates at his back.

“You’re the Avatar?” Zuko looked incredulous. “I’ve spent years preparing for this! Training. Meditating. You’re just a child!”

“Well, you’re just a teenager.” Aang looked around. He saw the collapsed defences of the village, the wounded fighters on the ground, the way Sokka stood bravely before his sister in an attempt to shield her. _I ran before. A hundred years ago. I have a chance now to make a different choice, to not let the Fire Nation destroy those close to me._ He tossed his air staff behind him. It thumped into Sokka’s chest, who clutched it surprised. “If I go with you, will you leave them alone?”

Zuko caught Aang’s eye, gaze firm. He nodded stiffly and soldiers moved forward to bind Aang’s unresisting wrists. Behind him Katara struggled to get past Sokka.

“No, Aang! Don’t do this! Please, we only just met!”

Aang was shoved forward roughly onto the ship. “Don’t worry about me Katara, I’ll be okay.” Inside, his heart was breaking. He was decidedly _not_ okay.

 

* * *

 

It’s peculiar how quickly the heart becomes attached. It’s very common amongst romantic soulmarked couples to meet and move in together after only a few days. It had been less than a day and Katara was ready to go to war for Aang. She’d belted three daggers onto her person, stuffed a satchel full of food, and sung a prayer to the seas; there was nothing left to do but to get Sokka on board with her insane plan.

He was already standing by a fully readied canoe when she found him, arguments of persuasion at the ready. He grinned at her as she collided into him, arms stretched open for a bear hug.

“Lets go rescue our other half. Or other third. Whatever.” Katara just grinned at him.

“Where do you two think you’re going?” They turned around to see Gran Gran looking severe, a bundle clutched in her hands. “You’d better not be trying to leave without a little something from me.” They moved forward off the boat to meet her. Gran Gran kissed Sokka on the forehead. “It’s been so long since I’ve had hope. Be kind to your sister and your heart, my brave warrior. And you, Katara, my little waterbender. Haven’t I always told you? The heart goes where it wills. Though I certainly wasn’t expecting this!”

“Neither were we, Gran.” Sokka snorted. ‘Me and Katara, chasing after the Avatar, who happens to be our soulmate, and a massive ass warship in a little canoe. I’m starting to think my life is some kind of cosmic joke.”

“As hilarious as you and your life is, Sokka, it doesn’t look like we’re going to need that canoe.” She pointed to the skies, which were presently dominated by a large flying Sky Bison headed straight for them.

“Elements,” Sokka swore. Seeing little other choice, he grabbed the packs out of the canoe, kissed Gran Gran on the cheek and hesitantly clambered aboard Appa. Katara was already perched up on the bison’s neck, her fear for Aang momentarily forgotten as she lost herself in a new experience the world had to offer. Fourteen years old and it was like the world was finally opening up before her: the chance to learn waterbending, to see something beyond this chunk of ice that she lovingly called home, to voyage across the seas and find herself.

“You just love taking me out of my comfort zone, don’t ya?” Sokka had no such enlightening thoughts. Just ones of terror as he clutched to Appa’s fur, terrified that chunks would fall out and he would tumble into the icy waters below. They hadn’t even taken off yet.

“What do we do?” Katara looked around questioningly, like she might find an instruction manual tucked into the saddle: “New Riders of the Sky Bison, read here”.

“What was it that kid said?” Sokka tried to recall. “Yee-ha?” There was a distinct lack of response from Appa. “Wahoo? Uh… yip yip?”

Sokka yelped and held on tighter as Appa rumbled from deep inside his belly and began to heave his massive tail. Like an oversized rabbit, Appa hopped along the ice, his leg muscles bunched up powerfully to propel him along the surface. The ice creaked as Appa made one last heave, launching himself into the sky with the two Water Tribe siblings on his back, one whooping for joy and the other with their terrified face buried into Appa’s fur.

“He’s flying! He’s flying!” Sokka screamed. He took a deep breath and his voice resumed something closer to its normal pitch. “I mean, big deal, we’re flying.”

It turned out that Katara had no need for the knives shoved into various parts of her clothing. Not that she really knew how to use them anyway. That was more Sokka’s area of semi-expertise. Their biggest challenge was jumping several feet off of Appa’s deck to crash land onto the deck of Zuko’s warship, where Aang was standing, tattoos glowing as he faced down the estranged son of the Fire Lord.

Katara and Sokka stumbled back a few steps as Aang bent the water in a massive wave, sending Zuko and his soldiers overboard. It seemed that the battle here was already over. Sokka watched Aang in awe as his tattoos became less vibrant and the small boy seemed to be drained of energy.

“Aang! Are you okay?” Katara stumbled toward him as Aang slumped over.

“Hey Katara. Sokka. Thanks for coming for me.” He breathed faintly, clearly losing strength.

“Well, we couldn’t let you have all the glory.” Sokka joked. He did that in tense, awkward and emotional situations. He couldn’t really help it, it was just one of those things that he did without first consulting his brain.

With a few punches, a touch of bending, and some sub-par insults they managed to escape the Fire Nation, flying away on Appa’s laden back. Still exhausted, Aang twisted around in the saddle to watch Zuko fade into a small black, angry dot and disappear into the distance. He wondered what had made Zuko so volatile, so eager to cause destruction. _A lack of love_ , he decided, looking over at Katara as she poured over a map, unconsciously playing with her braids. Sokka was looking over Appa’s side, down at the vanishing ground, and appeared very pale. Almost as pale as Aang. _I couldn’t be angry like this, not with so much potential for love at my fingertips._

Aang smiled at his two soulmates and thought about when he was proclaimed the Avatar. He’d thought it was a death sentence: the end of his friendships with the other young teenagers of the Air Nomads, the end of his freedom, and the final end of his youthful hopes to find a romantic soulmate. Aang still thought there was something about being the Avatar that meant endings, but here, on the back of Appa as they fled from the Fire Nation, he thought that he was standing at a beginning.

The beginning of being seen for who he truly was. The beginning of being loved for the rest of his life.

 

* * *

 

As they travelled together, this little group had their ups and their downs. Aang tentatively shared stories of his youth with the siblings, about the beauty of the Air Nomad temples and the simplicity of their philosophies. In turn Sokka and Katara hesitantly spoke of what had happened in Aang’s absence. They told him, without judgement, of how the Fire Nation had invaded, about how all the Waterbenders of the Southern Water Tribe had been taken, about how their mother had been killed.

They also spoke of what little stories they knew of Aang’s past. The Avatar is, of course, a reincarnation, and so for Aang to know of his past is to understand something about his present. Sokka told him about Avatar Kuruk and Avatar Kyoshi, their legends and their deeds. Katara spoke of the place of Avatar Roku in the attack of the Fire Nation and she whispered in the night of the tales that it was Avatar Roku that was Fire Lord Ozai’s soulmate, not his wife. Men had lost their heads for such rumours.

These stories, their pasts and their presents, brought them together. As they travelled through Kyoshi Island and met Suki, as Aang learned about the Spirit World and the Avatar State and met with Roku, as they teased Katara mercilessly about her crush on Jet (who, it turned out, had a soulmark of fire and that served only to fuel his hatred of the Fire Nation) and then comforted her as Jet’s heinous plans were revealed, the trio found themselves settling into a rhythm.

Sokka began to realise that he knew when Aang would get up in the night to pace restlessly, anxious over what was to come. Aang learned from Katara that the best way to cheer Sokka up was to take him shopping, preferably with a budget for a new, sharp, point yweapon. Katara saw the way that Aang looked at her and smiled; she didn’t think it was appropriate to encourage the affections of a twelve year old boy (even if he was _adorable_ ) and it wasn’t really the time anyway, what with the threat of the Fire Nation and all. But she noticed him and her heart felt fuller and she looked at Aang and thought: _maybe one day, when this is all over. Maybe._  

They all looked at each other and thought, “ _this is like home”_.

 

* * *

 

They’d spent a few days at the North Pole and Katara was now enjoying her waterbending lessons with Master Pakku. Sokka and Aang had both wanted to fight the sexist old man on her behalf, but Katara had stood her ground. This was her fight and now that she and Master Pakku saw eye to eye, Katara was enjoying her time here a lot more. She knew that the others had found an element of peace too, here within the icy walls of the Northern Water Tribe; Sokka, she was certain, was sneaking off to meet with Princess Yue (in fact, she suspected that he was with her right now, despite his insistence that he was “grocery shopping”; the boy didn’t even know what a vegetable looked like) and Aang was busy mastering his second element.

Right this moment, however, Aang wasn’t doing mastering so much as messing around. Whilst Katara was sparring hard, advancing her way up through the ranks of the class and relishing in the ache of her muscles from hours of rigorous training, Aang was busy playing with Momo and turning himself into a snowman. She supposed Aang and Sokka _were_ right; she was the sensible third of this heart-woven trio.

Aang laughed as he rolled around in the snow, enjoying how the water felt against his skin. As he had grown into his waterbending powers he had become more aware of water and now he could sense the snow, how it moved and how alive it felt. Ready to be manipulated. It was like he had grown another limb and with it had grown closer to becoming the Avatar that he was meant to be, the man that the four Nations needed. Aang also liked the expanded options he now had for fun, games, and general messing around.

He looked up anxiously as Momo spat out snow. Glancing around, Aang took in the worried faces of the waterbenders and then looked to the sky himself. It was not snow that was falling now but ash, thick and heavy and coating the clean snow in a dirty grey. Aang’s heart ceased it’s relaxed beat and sped up, pounding in his chest. He knew what this meant. 

“Fire Nation warships.” He breathed the words out slowly, quietly, but they still echoed across the courtyard. Aang sensed the fear of the people of the Northern Water Tribe; he saw their faces change as his words washed over them, but a small and guilty part of him saw this ash of incoming destruction and thought of redemption. His redemption. _This time, this time I will not run. This time I will stand here and fight the Fire Nation as I should have done a hundred years ago._

Aang wasn’t the only one thinking of guilt and of battles he had not fought, wars he had not won. Sokka thought of the invasion of the Southern Water Tribe when he had been virtually useless against Zuko and his invading army when he stuck his hand up to volunteer for the dangerous mission that Chief Arnook was demanding volunteers for. But Sokka was also thinking of Yue and her rejection of him, of _them_ , and how storming foolish he had been.

Katara had always been the one who had daydreamed of romance, who had looked at the colour of her mark and wished, just a little, that it was a different colour. Sokka had looked at the spear on his skin and felt pride and the sound of destiny calling him to war. Today, Sokka looked at the beautiful princess of the Northern Water Tribe with a red moon inked upon her bicep and wished, just a little, that she could have been his destiny instead.

So he accepted the three red lines of the Chief on his forehead and strode off to war. Aang watched him go and he understood. Of course he did; like Katara, Aang knew the wild thrumming of Sokka’s heart, knew just as surely as Katara had that Sokka had been sneaking off to spend time with a girl and that right now Sokka’s heart was hurting and that he was healing it the only way he truly knew how. The same way Aang did.

“I wasn’t there when the Fire Nation attacked my people.” Aang’s words rang in the silence before Chief Arnook. “I’m going to make a difference this time.” There was determination in his voice, his fists clenched and his mind ready to face Zuko again. This time he wouldn’t run. _Not this time_. He thought to himself, the words running on a constant loop inside his mind as he perched atop Appa. Katara and Sokka stood to either side. All three faced out over the great ice walls at the approaching Fire Nation ships. 

There was a moment of peace where the three breathed in and out in sync, shoulder to shoulder, united against the advance of an army. Halfway across the sea, in a heavily armed warship with Iroh at his side, stood Zuko. He touched his scar with his fingers and, like Aang, thought of redemption. He breathed in and breathed out. Halfway across the world, a young girl was fighting in the final of the Earth Domination league. She paused in her bout to collect herself, feeling the hum of the soil beneath her bare feet. She breathed in and breathed out. 

When the siege of the North was over, Katara, Sokka, and Aang sat together. Sokka’s cheeks had dried tear tracks on them and Katara and Aang held his hand as he grieved over Yue. Katara felt sorrow for her brother, for the love she had thought that he might be able to find, and an undercurrent of pride for herself at the use her newly developed waterbending skills had been. Aang was exhausted from his time joined with the Ocean Spirit, decimating the ships of the Fire Nation fleet, and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

They were tired and sorrowful and pleased, and they looked at each other and thought, “ _this is home”_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this longer chapter! 
> 
> The next one might be a little bit longer as Toph is giving me a bit of trouble. It's been a while since I've watched some of her episodes :O 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks I have received. It's so fantastic to get all that encouragement x


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